I’m at the age where travel still means adventure, but with the guardrails up. My hostel-hopping days are long behind me, though I’ve retained the restless curiosity of my younger self. Which means I don’t want the mass-tourism experience – and I suspect you don’t either – but nor do I yearn to disappear completely off-piste into somewhere genuinely uncharted (read: dangerous after dark).
Which is where Botafogo comes in: the wonderful, gritty-but-not-too-gritty Rio de Janeiro neighbourhood.
